


Immovable Object

by outlawserenade



Category: Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Because Tim just won't go away, JayTim Week 2018, Jaytim - Freeform, M/M, Pre-Relationship, References to Addiction, References to Depression, So Jason said, references to death, wtf is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 22:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14066982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outlawserenade/pseuds/outlawserenade
Summary: There are things that even the strongest of willpowers cannot fight, and sometimes, a helping hand is all that one needs.





	Immovable Object

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I skipped day 4 (can't find any one-shots in my WIPs), and day 5 because one prompt makes me uncomfortable, the other feels kind of repetitive - theme-wise - with the ones that I've posted. Sooo... day 6 it is!

**Day 6: Bed Sharing // ~~Assassins AU~~**

"Scoot over,"

At other times, another voice in his room would have sent Jason into a frenzy of grabbing maybe a few dozen knives, a few handguns, and a multitude other objects that he could use to maim and/or annihilate the source of the voice.

This time, he couldn't even find it in him to scoot over. He merely grunted, and the voice spoke again, "It's okay, though. You're lucky I'm actually small," following a dip on the bed right next to Jason's waist.

Tim. Tim Drake. The supposed thorn on his back, the third to take the mantle of Robin - with said mantle taken from Jason's cold, dead body. He should have killed the boy when he had the chance, for the sake of principles. Or ego. 

Tim snaked his arm under Jason's neck, his small arm - approximately half of Jason's, but stronger than it looked - lifted Jason's shoulders until Jason actually moved a little to the side to give him a little space.

"Sorry..." Jason mumbled.

It has been like that for a few days. He couldn't move. For some reason, his nightmares intensified to the point where he would just prefer never to wake up; and his body had all but succumbed. Until Tim arrived on day three.

"I've refilled your meds," Tim told him. "You'll get through this one, okay? I'm here. I'm not going anywhere. Maybe to the toilet or to the grocery store, but I'll be here."

There were issues with Tim being there. First and foremost, in his prolonged misery, Jason had neglected going to his bigger safehouse. This one only has one bed. It made him even sadder to think that Tim was squished like a bug on the single mattress that has seen better days - days of approximately twenty years ago when it rolled out of the factory. Today, said mattress is filled with holes, its springs peeking out and fro at random.

But Tim didn't want to move Jason anywhere. He said he'd wait until it passed, until Jason can get up on his own volition again. He could eat, alright, something that Tim brought that he didn't even know if it tasted good or not. Not even chewing. Just opened his mouth a little whenever Tim nudged him to do so, then swallow.

Then he forced himself - with Tim's help - to get up to the bathroom. Tim had waited in front of the door, speaking softly and encouragingly until Jason was done.

He knew what clinical depression was. His mother was there, right before she'd died of overdose. Jason was too young then to understand it, but he'd tried to figure it out later. And he'd hoped that it would not pass genetically as the researchers have said. But hey, when you've started life in a shithole, died before you even had your first kiss, and got resurrected only to find your family have replaced you; having depression was probably just the icing on the cake.

What he couldn't understand was Tim Drake. It was no secret that he'd loathed the kid - only three years his junior, and had taken up the mantle of Robin a mere six months after Jason was killed by the Joker. He had never showed as if he'd  _liked_  Drake. Tolerate him, maybe. _Like_ would be a very, very long stretch. Or so he thought. Drake reciprocated just fine. He'd never showed as if he'd liked Jason. 

And today, Tim was letting Jason lean on him, listening to the soft thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat as the medication dragged him back to sleep. Jason could probably kill Tim right now, if his muscles would cooperate with his general thought. But then again, his general thought absolutely has no notion of the killing  type. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Tim had just cleaned him up thoroughly, and his body felt a lot more fresh than yesterday. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Tim's slender fingers were carding through his hair - there was a thing called 'dry shampoo', apparently, which Tim had applied liberally into Jason's hair and made the hair smelled like strawberries. It was nice. Everything was nice as of this instant.

Maybe it was because they were on the same bed, with a soft song playing from Tim's phone, crooning both to sleep. Maybe because somewhere in the fog that is his memories, Jason remembered that, in spite of his being a 'rich' kid and is presently a CEO of Bruce's companies, Tim had gone through a lot, too, in his life. His parents were killed. His best friends were gone.  _Bruce_  was dead, once - although the latter was not quite so dead anymore. Just like Jason. 

He actually felt a little shame. Tim had faced the world head-on and kept moving. 

 _Maybe tomorrow,_  Jason hoped inwardly,  _maybe tomorrow I'll be able to show Tim that I'm as strong as he is._  Maybe tomorrow he would be able to show Tim that he was still the same Jason as the one whose photos Tim had showed him a while ago; the boy in scaly shorts and red green and yellow who laughed as if he'd owned the night. The boy whose trust were broken again and again and again, not by those he deemed as an enemy, but by those he thought would help him.

He knew that Tim was different. Unlike Dick, Tim did not get out of his way to help Jason to prove _himself_ right to Bruce. Tim just get there and do it because - as he said it, "it was the right thing to do." This was not the first time Tim had helped him - although most would have consisted of open lacerations and several broken bones; and never had it been a broken mind. He didn't even flinch when he found Jason unmoving earlier in the day. He'd just looked at the empty pill bottles, checked Jason's reaction, confirmed that no, Jason hadn't taken all the pills to commit suicide, thanks; and proceeded to help.

Maybe, maybe one day Jason will be able to return the favor. Help Tim when he needed it the most just because.

Right now, Jason just wanted to continue listening to the soft music and the thump-thump-thump of a heartbeat under his ear. He closed his eyes.


End file.
